For A Change
by Kyootulu
Summary: The nagging thought that something is amiss with their party leader keeps Alistair awake through the late hours of the evening during a brief respite in Redcliffe Castle. This time, however, it will be -this- Grey Warden asking the questions.
1. Chapter 1: Midnight Musings

_Author's Note: I couldn't get this out of my head, presently on lunch break and itching to get back to my game, and realizing that while I've had a blast so far in learning about each of my party members' lives, I realized that the player doesn't really have any method of seeing through their eyes and have the player character talk back. What if the function were reversed? What if you could control the NPC to talk to your avatar and see what he or she actually says?_

_This story is from Alistair's point of view, if the tone doesn't make it obvious. This story is meant as a two parter. MAJOR SPOILERS WARNING, by the way._

_Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome. I haven't done this in a while, after all._

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**FOR A CHANGE**

**Chapter 1: Midnight Musings**

Redcliffe Castle.

The first time I had truly left it, it never occured to me to come back. Perhaps I was being stupidly stubborn, even now looking at the familiar courtyard and the old stone I couldn't help but remember past wounds that may have been my own imagination's devise, but there it is. People say that the Past has a particularly annoying habit of coming back to bite its favorite victims right in the arse. Looking around where I am now, I've found that I was more the rule than the exception, sprawled on a real mattress for the first time in days staring up at the ceiling and occasionally picking at my bellybutton when no one could see me.

Hey, some things stay with us from childhood.

Our motley crew and I decided to take a bit of a respite from our travels; brief, but necessary. The quest to find Andraste's ashes took a bit of a toll on everyone physically, especially when we barely stopped along the way, short hours of fitful sleep and an occasional meal hurriedly snatched when we could, to Redcliffe in order to help the village defend itself against an undead horde, and later on the disturbing events in the castle where Connor Guerrin's true nature was revealed in the worst possible way. By the looks on everyone's faces, even with taciturn Sten (in fact I was rather surprised to see his expression change in something other than disgruntled, a fact I made the mistake of saying out loud at dinner that left him glowering at me for hours), just a single night on an actual bed would do all of us plenty of good, both in body and morale; two elements that Duncan once told me were absolutely essential in running a good team.

I would like to say that I suggested it first, but that would be a lie. She did. I suppose as our leader she would be more sensitive to our needs than what we ourselves could even anticipate. It was the mark of someone who actually cared about her people. I, however, already knew that about her. Knew it for a while, having spent hours on the road or in camp watching her talk to everyone else about their lives, where they came from. Her questions weren't all about what we would do against the Blight, she had never been like that, never been so focused on our mission and objectives that she saw the people around her as tools instead of human beings (in direct contrast to a certain someone). Her conversations covered many things. Culture. Religious viewpoints. Foreign lands. What we plan or had planned for the future before all this. She was naturally engaging, I picked up on it instantly the first moment I met her. She made it a point to talk to everyone, from the first moment she stepped in our base at Ostagar, chatting with the Kennel Master about his sick Mubari... even the deserter we kept prisoner. From what I heard, she even managed to get him fed. Talk, talk, talk. Poke, poke, poke.

I suppose you can say she was presently the reason why I'm wide awake despite it being well past midnight. It's not because I'm obsessing over her, though I'm rather certain that some in the group have already picked up on the fact that I've been growing steadily infatuated with her over the course of our journey (judging by the looks I occasionally get from Wynne. Grandmothers always know, I suppose). It isn't that at all. ....well, not completely. It's just that something was wrong and I couldn't figure out what it was, and in trying to parse out what it was, I suddenly realized something.

I don't know much about her at all.

It was always about us, those talks. She asked all the questions, sat us down and made us tell our stories. Leliana's tales from everywhere, Zev's childhood in Antiva, choking down every single joke and smart reply I had in my verbal arsenal and in quieter moments, the difficulties I've had in dealing with Duncan's death. She bore them all, including Zev's insufferable accent (though the Maker only knows how), always with a keen spark of interest in her dark eyes and occasionally laughing when someone said something that incidentally amused her. But these discussions have never been about her. In fact the only thing I could remember about her past was a brief reiteration on her part that her mother and father had been killed the night she was recruited into the Order. I didn't ask, though I was curious, but I thought... it wasn't my place to pry.

All I knew about her was the now - what she was like in battle. What kind of leader she made, marching us onto the next objective. How beautiful she was. How the effects of the Joining had changed her appetite the more she got acclimated to the effects of the Darkspawn blood we masochistically infused into our systems. Compared to what she knew about me, I knew so little about her life before the Grey Wardens, the years that shaped her to be who and what she was before we came along.

If I knew, if I had even a small fraction of that knowledge, then maybe I could figure out what it was that was missing, and then maybe I could get some desperately needed sleep.

That was the only way I could put it, that something was missing. It started after we finished taking a pinch of Andraste's ashes from the ruined temple outside of the village of Haven and started the long trek to Redcliffe. She didn't talk much, even after we had set up camp, where I was so accustomed to seeing her make her rounds speaking with all of us one by one before taking Percival out for a walk and going to sleep. She was... I don't know. More subdued, somehow, sitting on a log by the main campfire and looking into it as if she could divine the answers she was looking for from the soot, and the ashes, and the gold-red flames.

It was the quietest I had ever seen her and truthfully, it drove me crazy. I wouldn't admit it out loud, mind, but it did.

What was it? Was it me? Did I finally annoy her enough to clam up? And here I thought I was doing so well, giving her that rose before setting off for Haven, clammy-handed as the delivery was with me sweating internally, wondering how she would take it.

But I wouldn't be finding any answers on the ceiling with all of its cobwebs, or on my borrowed bed, or even my navel, which was a disappointment enough in itself considering I made some of my more profound observations after poking at it while thinking.

Another hour passed and I'm nowhere close to solving the problem. There was really only one, efficient way in which you could go about this, Alistair, my boy.

I suppose now it's time to take a page out of her book and ask, for a change.


	2. Chapter 2: Everyone Knows

_Author's Note: Thank you for all the feedback so far! I got one particular review in where the writer wanted me to expand the story a little bit. So! As requested, this story will be a three-parter instead._

_You can all just consider this a side-quest of sorts before getting to the main plot. ;)_

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**FOR A CHANGE**

**Chapter 2: Everyone Knows**

I was mistaken in thinking I was the only one out of us who was up this late. I tried her room first, but there was no response... I would've thought that she was probably sleeping, but a servant walking past had recognized me and helpfully informed me that she had seen the Lady Cousland leave her quarters a few moments prior. I didn't know why I thought that in the first place, that she had been sleeping. She was always, without fail, the last one to go to bed. I wondered at first whether the nightmares caused it... despite everything that she has done, all that she has achieved, she was new to being a Grey Warden. I've had the time to slowly, but surely blunt the effects of the dark dreams myself. She had to try and learn it while on the road, and I know for a fact that the Blight makes the visions worse.

Now, I'm not so certain if that was wholly the reason why.

She wasn't in the kitchen, which was the first place I looked because that would be where I would go in a night like this. I'd be ravenous and pestering someone to let me raid the larder like I did back in headquarters many times before. She wasn't in the armory either, she cleaned her gear before she went to bed without fail. Finally, I tried one of the castle's sitting rooms. Redcliffe was, in many ways, my childhood home after all, I knew all the shortcuts, and while she wasn't there either, I spotted a familiar head of gleaming, white hair poking out from the top of a comfortable chair. Despite myself, I couldn't help but grin.

"Granny!" I declared with flourish, exaggerating my steps so I bounded like a schoolboy and not the grown man I was (at least physically). "Will you give me a cookie before bedtime? Willyouwillyouwillyou?"

I couldn't even adequately describe the look on Wynne's face when she looked up from her book. It was a blend of both amusement and exasperation, though I could've sworn somewhere along the lines of her crow's feet, there was a certain degree of a matriarch's affection. She made it a point to sigh loudly like she usually did whenever I pulled the Grandmother card on her, thumbing her page and peering at me with drawn brows. I recognized the expression instantly, it was the face she wore every time she tried to anticipate someone's purpose before even a word left her mouth. And then, slowly, she smirked.

Uh oh.

"If you're looking for the lady, as you can see, she's not here," Wynne told me mildly, though the amusement on her face (one that told me she was well aware of my little crush, much to my perpetual chagrin) remained terribly visible. "A little late making social calls, don't you think?"

Damn it! How does she always know? Can she read minds, too? Bloody mages!

"Uh." Your eloquence is astounding, Alistair. "What....makes you think I'm looking for her?" I sidled over, an arm resting on the back of her chair and widened my smile enough to reveal my teeth. "What if I just reeaaaaally wanted a cookie from my favorite senior citizen in all of Ferelden?"

I was gifted with a gentle hand smacking my arm. "When you're traveling with the same people for this long," she said in a lecturing tone. "You tend to pick up a few things, if you take the time to be observant." I watched her put the book away, and arrange her skirts. "But that's how I know." A snow white brow perked upwards. "Ever since the ruined temple, she has been detached and you're fretting over it. You kept glancing at her direction at the last campsite, and she wasn't responding to your boyish charms and attempts at humor as well as she normally does. I take it that's what disturbs you the most."

_Attempts_? I was almost hurt. I would object, but she was right, and her careful and well-thought out assessment only wrung the desire to be a wisecracking prat out of me in the interest of getting her perspective. I heard myself sigh, felt my hand leave her chair to scratch the base of my jaw, feeling prickly stubble there. I desperately need a shave.

"I wonder if anything happened back in the temple," I replied, pitching my voice low just in case. "To make her...you know. We had to search a few chambers and split up a bit, after all."

She pondered that for a moment. Wynne never really does anything with her hands or her body whenever she thinks, but just looking at her, you would know it. It was more on the face, I think, the way her lashes lower her eyes. I found myself fidgeting as I waited, and as much as it annoyed everyone sometimes, I couldn't help it. I had an objective, after all, and I wanted to get back to fulfilling it, but not without gathering some much needed intelligence first. Literally in my case, certain people would say. After all, it was Wynne.

"Perhaps," she replied, finally. "I can't think of anything else that would affect her so, at least to the point of the two of us noticing. I thought I heard her speak, at the alcove in the halls leading to the chamber where we were forced to fight our dopplegangers, but I thought it was my imagination. There was nothing there, after all."

My brows furrowed at that, and as much as I hated to admit it, I felt the hard gnaw of worry somewhere in my belly. I don't know much about how the Blight affects newly joined Wardens. I knew it was worse for recruits who join during one, but I didn't know how much worse. When it came to the secrets of the Order, people tended to be uncommunicative... even Duncan. A Grey Warden learns how to cope with the Taint on his own, with little guidance from the veterans because you could scarcely find one who wanted to talk about it. But with all of them dead, and the two of us left, and with me not knowing a fraction of what Duncan did about the effects of the Joining, I couldn't help but wonder whether the Taint was affecting her more adversely than I to the point that she was talking to herself. Did the Taint bring madness too?

I saw Wynne's face change. The amusement was gone, and she was looking at me. Observing. She even looked a little concerned for me. I suppose my "serious face" really is just that frightening. No wonder I joke around all the time. Again, the fidget.

"Soooo....I better...you know," I said awkwardly, jerking a thumb over my shoulder.

"Yes," Wynne agreed, a small smile returning. "You better."

Understanding passed unsaid between us. I smiled back, and departed the sitting room just in time to catch sight of a pale, blonde head sneaking around the corner. The Crow stood out, despite his ability to be invisible whenever he wanted, his short, but nimble stature moving in a direction away from me. "Zev!" I called, quickening my pace. "Hold, I've a question for you."

The assassin stopped, and the moment his eyes moved to mine, I instantly regretted it, seeing them slit in that familiar, sly expression.

"If you must," the damned elf said, his smile growing. I didn't know what it was, but alarm bells were ringing in my head and something about it was disturbing. "But I get to stare at you luridly while you speak."

Oh, Maker's Breath, what? The last I checked, I didn't have any breasts (I looked down for a second to make sure). Why is he looking at me that way?

"Uh." I've been saying that a lot this evening. "I was wondering if you've seen..."

His smile grew even bigger. "Ooooooh, I see," he mused, with that tone, teasing and laced with a degree of lasciviousness I wanted to punch him for.

Does _everyone _know?! By Andraste's pert--

"I saw the lovely one walking towards the eastern tower." Finally, something helpful. "She's definitely there, as I followed her." His sigh was irritatingly dreamy. "I have never seen her in such a state as she is now," he continued. "With her hair down and a blanket around her shoulders, her arms crossed in such a way that you could see the outline of her proud and magnificent bosom..."

That's it. The midget dies. I don't care if he wasn't particularly discriminating in the first place, as I've overheard him comment on Wynne's assets many times (which was also disturbing). There's a window nearby, after all, and at the moment it looked sorely tempting.

I don't know what my face looked like at the moment, but he saw something that made him laugh and slap my shoulder, in which I didn't know whether to take or shy away from after the lurid comment. "I'll leave you to your conquest," Zev replied with a smirk. "Meanwhile, I think I'll go get myself a drink. If you like, later on, you can join me."

He left soon after and I couldn't help but stare after him as he did. What the crap just happened?! Was he flirting with me? _Seriously_? I don't know anymore!

I didn't know whether to trust him after that. Just in case, I searched the entire floor I was in, until I decided to believe him after all and head for the eastern tower. It didn't hurt to look, after all. Turning a corner, I found myself painfully smashing my face in a brick wall I was certain didn't exist there before. It could be a new addition, some new fortification that Arl Eamonn had built in the years I was gone. It was either that, or...

I looked up. "....hello, Sten."

He glowered at me. The fact that he hasn't forgiven me for making fun of him during dinner was quite obvious.

"Listen," I continued, putting on the most affable, conversational tone I could muster. "I was wondering if you saw-- "

He crossed his arms over his chest.

"...nevermind! I'll be going now. By the way, Wynne's hoarding cookies. You should really say something."

I hurried down the hall, away from the qunari before he decided to turn me into a delectable meat paste. Is everyone I know awake at this hour?! This was getting a little ridiculous!

Never had I felt so much relief when I saw the door at the end of the hall, leading upwards to the top of the eastern tower. I knew it well, as I spent many hours brooding at the top of it when I was but a lad. It overlooked the courtyard, and on its other side was a distant view of Lake Calenhad. It was a good place to think, a good place to be alone. It was that very thought that assailed me when I placed a hand on the knob and paused.

Maybe she ought to be left alone. I've done the very thing myself too many times not to be sympathetic towards it. I don't think I would've appreciated being barged into those days, either, when I would go up there and think. For the moment, I hesitated. This wasn't the first time in when I didn't know what to do, what to say, when she was involved. Whenever discussions got serious and, in some cases, personal between us I fumbled around clumsily like a blind man who lost his cane. I was astute enough to recognize that I was in danger of doing the very same in a few minutes, and at something that felt rather sensitive.

This was important enough that I didn't want to do that. Not this time.

The temptation to turn away and just mind my own business was strong, but then I remembered what Wynne had said earlier, and my worries about the effects of the Taint on her. What if my assumptions were correct? What if she was going mad? Aside from her, I was the only other Grey Warden. Who else would be in a position to understand? And if that were true and she needed someone to relate, would I be doing our friendship justice if I just left?

Ah, damn it.

A gust of cold air hit me when I opened the door and stepped through, shutting it behind me as I ventured upwards.


	3. Chapter 3: Getting There

_Author's Note: Did I say three-parter? I'll just keep writing until it ends, and leave it at that, though I don't anticipate this going any further than a chapter four, and possibly an epilogue. Again, to all that's reading, thank you very much for the feedback, and all who's marking this story down and subscribing to the updates._

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**FOR A CHANGE**

**Chapter 3: Getting There**

It was quiet at the top of the tower, save for the occasional howl of chilly winds blowing from the direction of the Frostback Mountains. Perhaps Zev had been lying after all, as I didn't hear anything, not a sound, not a single step on the worn cobblestones to let me know that she was indeed present in my current surroundings. I didn't chance it however, placing a marked effort in my steps to be quiet and peek around the corner to see if there was anyone there. Sure enough, she was there. I could recognize that head of red hair anywhere, the color of blood under the dim light of the half-moon overhead.

She was sitting on the cold floor, on the very far end, her back against the crenellations with a blanket around her shoulders. I was mistaken in my assumptions that she was alone... she wasn't. Percival's large, meaty, hulking dog form was sitting next to her, his head and front paws half-sprawled on her lap with her hand absently scratching his ears as she looked off the lower ledge and towards the direction of Lake Calenhad.

Despite many days, weeks...months of travel, this was only the first time I've ever seen her hair down. Unlike the other female criminals or warriors I've come across in my travels, she seemed to eschew the convention of wearing her hair in a practical length. She kept it long, usually fashioned them into two plaits and coiled them at the back of her head to keep them out of her face. It suited her, I thought, to have longer hair. She was fair-skinned as well, heightening her deceptively delicate appearance with large eyes that made her seem younger than...

Wow. I didn't even know how old she was. I always thought she had to be around my age. After all, she was the last Grey Warden recruited - just a little while after myself.

It constantly surprised me at just how feminine she actually was after all the blood and grime had been washed off, and the armor discarded. Seeing her now, it was hard to picture her wielding two blades at once, flying through the air with her arms spread to take down an ogre a hundred times her size... or several of them, even. I once told her during the long road into the next town after we had left the Circle Tower that she had to be part bird, and considering I was raised by dogs, that we made quite a fighting pair. If I had said that to anyone else in the party, I'd be receiving exasperated responses all around. She, however, just laughed and told me to keep walking. In a way, it was relieving to know she still could. Laugh, I mean. Despite everything.

I haven't heard her do so after the temple, however.

I paused. I didn't reveal myself yet. I was too busy thinking of a proper entrance. Should I pretend to come across her accidentally? Should I come clean that I had been looking for her? She'd never believe I got lost wandering around these halls, she knew I grew up here. I had to shake my head at myself, however, when I realized I was spending a good amount of time obscured from view, agonizing over how I would present myself and make my inquiries. It had been hard enough to give her the rose, and even harder to tell her whose bastard I actually was.

Oh, well. I guess I'll just wing it.

I took a deep breath, and jumped out of the shadows, waving my arms wildly and bellowing at the top of my lungs.

"BEHOLD! I am the terror that swoops in the ni-- !"

"Good evening, Alistair."

She didn't even jump. In fact the moment I leapt out from the stairs, she had been looking at my direction already.

My dramatic entrance woefully dashed, I flashed her a grin, felt my eyebrows perk upwards the way they usually did when I felt like being cheeky. "You could've at least pretended to gasp in horror," I drawled, slipping my hands in my pockets and stepping over at where she was sitting. "Maybe let out a little scream. Do you actually scream? Or is it all just 'Darkspawn coming!' 'Kill the fiends!' ?"

....I am never attempting a falsetto ever again.

The laughter I was hoping for was nonexistent, but she did smile, though very faintly. Percival raised his head a bit off her lap and growled at me. I glowered at him back. She noticed, nothing ever seemed to get past her.

"Are the two of you still not getting along?" she asked, the barest trace of amusement evident.

"He bit me," I said, crossing my arms over my chest and pouted for good measure. "I'm holding a grudge."

Percival growled some more.

"I think the two of you would've become better friends if you didn't tell him about that grisly Mabari custom you heard about," she pointed out.

I lifted my hands in mock-defense. "Well, I did hear about it! I thought he should know just in case anyone tried to slip him something suspicious! You never know these days. And let's not forget about the fact that he bit me!"

"It was a nip!" she protested. "You barely bled!"

"Only because my reflexes are as fast as lightning," I replied, upping the dramatics. I pulled my hands out of my pockets and doing several gestures with my hands to demonstrate for comedy's sake. "I have to be quick! Agile! Scourge of the Darkspawn that I am, truth be told, I'm a terribly delicate creature. Fragile, really. You have no idea how Percy here almost made me cry. I had to go behind the tent after that and fan my eyes so fat, girly tears wouldn't start rolling down my face."

I don't know if it was the tone, or the notion of me sobbing like a little girl on the inside, but she finally put her hand on her face and laughed helplessly, albeit quietly.

Victory.

Or a small one at least. We both fell quiet after that, and it stretched on to the point of it being somewhat awkward. I scratched the back of my neck, wondering what I should do next. Should I sit next to her? Lean on the wall? Jump off the tower at how well this was going?

Finally, I settled for: "So how did you know it was me anyway?"

"Hm?"

"Earlier. It was like you were already expecting me to come out before I did my swooping barbarian impression."

She inclined her head at me and blinked, and for the moment I wondered if I missed something. She looked rather perplexed. "...did you forget already?" she asked slowly.

Oh, crap. Go figure I'd forget something I myself said to her. Smooth, Alistair.

"Forget what?"

"What you told me," she explained. I was half expecting her to call me an idiot, but she was never like that. "About the Joining. What the liquid in the chalice actually was. Darkspawn blood and how it helps us sense them."

I furrowed my brows, tilting my head at her. What was she getting at?

She must've seen the look on my face. "You drank it too," she supplied, and I almost smacked myself for not getting it right away.

"Oh, right. I'd have part of the Taint in me so you'd be able to sense me too. Got it." I sighed inwardly. This was a disaster. The last thing I wanted coloring all of this was demonstrating how dense I could be at a given situation.

"Mmhm." The sound of her affirmation was soft. The smile returned, at least, bolstering my flagging spirits. Maker's Breath, I'm so bad at this.

"The rest is just the process of elimination," she continued. "After everything there's no way a single Darkspawn would survive having gone this far into the castle and up this tower without one of us noticing and as far as I know, no one else has the Taint. It had to be you."

It floored me on occasion as to just how smart she was, or how observant... or at the very least gifted with a generous amount of common sense. I could only smile while the rest of me screamed and flailed, wondering just how I was going to bring it up. I couldn't blame her for going into tangents, covering subjects I didn't really want to talk about, because she didn't know why I was up here to begin with.

This was such a bad idea.

"Does...it bother you?" I found myself asking. "Knowing that you have to spend the rest of your life having part of them in you?"

She pursed her lips at that, rolling her head back against the stone so she could meet my eyes. The way her lashes hooded her dark gaze made her look almost sleepy, the most languid I've ever seen her. "Bedroom eyes," some of my brethren would call them, though to be quite frank I wouldn't know much about that.

"It did, at first," she confessed, finally, after a long pause. "I knew so little about what I was getting into that I just did it. I had nothing else after all. Nothing left. So, I closed my eyes and jumped into the proverbial pit. But after everything... it's helpful to have it, don't you think? Whatever gets the job done, right? It...seems like a such a small thing when the extent of its corruption is so great in comparison, but being able to feel what's coming might make a difference between dying today and fighting another day. Ripples in a pond, like Wynne said to me before. After all, every little thing we do counts and every advantage we could get for ourselves may mean everything in the end."

Her following smile was tinged with melancholy and for a moment I felt something tug at my gut, seeing it. I couldn't take it anymore. Thankfully, there was an opening and I grabbed at it frantically.

"Speaking of Wynne," I began, finally having the gumption to walk over and drop myself on the stone floor next to her. "I ran into her downstairs." Oh, Me, you gigantic, fluffy chicken. "She's....worried. About you."

It was faint, but I saw it. The briefest flicker of something passing over her eyes, though I still don't know what caused it. She looked away from me then in favor of shifting Percival's sizable weight off her so she could pull her knees upwards under the blanket draped on her. "She's very matronly, don't you think?" she asked, exhibiting all the signs of someone who was ready to avoid the issue with a joke or one-liner; signs I knew well because I excelled at them. "Always worrying, constantly concerned, the finger-wagging. I don't know how she manages to pull it off, getting you to sense that she doesn't like something with just a look. Even with your back turned you just know she doesn't approve."

"Hah!" I rolled my head backwards, my skull digging into the cold masonry behind me. "If I knew the answer to that, I'd be getting away with something. That woman never lets me get away with anything."

"She's not the type," she agreed, and for the first time in a while, I saw an actual grin. "Especially not you. Though don't lie, I know you enjoy it."

I didn't have the heart to deny it. "I do," I confirmed with a nod. "She's like the grandmother I never had. Literally."

The silence that followed was less awkward, and more companionable. Part of me was proud of myself for having gone this far, with her at least, knowing that she never really talked much about herself and at times, seemed to go out of her way to avoid it. It wasn't as if she was aloof, like I said before, she was always an engaging person. She just never... she just always put everyone first, before herself. Even with the campfire stories. With a sigh, I pushed forward. Time for the hard part.

"She's right, you know," I pointed out without preamble. "You haven't been yourself."

She actually looked surprised, when she finally turned her head sideways to look me in the face. "You noticed?"

Noticed? I couldn't sleep because of it. "Hey, I'm not that much of a blockhead," I replied. "I notice some things too, on occasion. Besides... when you're traveling with the same people for this long, you tend to pick up a few things."

I'm certain Wynne wouldn't mind getting her lines stolen by a floundering man.

When she fell quiet again, I sighed. "Look," I began, in the kindest voice I could possibly muster. "You don't...have to talk to me, about what's bothering you. If not me... talk to Wynne. Leliana. Someone. I just..." I hesitated, but the words were out and once they were out, I couldn't help but continue on and say them. "I just thought that after... I told you so much. What being a Grey Warden was like, what I felt about Duncan's death and how I regretted not having been there to shield him. The bitterness I felt in growing up here. Who I really am." I waved towards the door leading into the interior of the castle. "So...I thought if you were having a tough time over something, maybe it's my turn, you know? To lend an ear. I just....want to help find the piece of you that's missing in the last couple of weeks, is all."

I must have said something right, since the guarded expression on her face changed just then. For a moment, it looked as if she were about to...

Oh, Maker and Andraste both, was she going to cry? What?! I don't want that! What did I say? It sounded good to me! Ugh, I'll never understand women, ever!

To my relief, she didn't. She looked away instead and suddenly, everything was quiet again. I didn't know what to do, what to feel. Part of me wanted to tear my hair out in frustration, and yet there's also another part of me that's prostrating myself in front of the Maker's mercy for not seeing any tears shed from her. I didn't think I could handle it, seeing them, knowing I caused them because my mouth ran away from me again. I'd feel like a giant arse if it happened.

"I saw my father's shade." Her voice was so quiet I almost missed her words amidst my internal flip-out. "In the temple, before we fought ourselves in that big chamber."

Shade? I stared at her for a moment. "His...ghost? Spirit?" I supplied, tentatively.

"Mmhm." Her nod was barely there. "He spoke to me."

I was missing something, and I knew it. I've lost track of the nights I'd lie in my tent wondering what I would do or say if I ever had a chance to go back in time to speak with Duncan again. Seeing his ghost, shade, whatever, would probably put some of my more difficult issues with his death to rest. It was an opportunity I would seize in an instant should it be offered to me. So in seeing her now, clearly morose over the vision of her father's ghost, I wondered why she didn't look more at ease. Why she didn't look so comforted that where I in her shoes, I would be so. I knew her parents were killed, murdered in some kind of uprising in Highever. What had been said? What did her father's spirit say to her?

I could really conclude only one thing.

"If..." I paused, wondering if I should continue, and then proceeded forward. "If the thing said something ill or malicious, it... Elissa, you have to remember that we were being tested at the time. So whatever it said..."

"It's not that he said something hurtful," she supplied, finally looking at me again. I could see the pearlined edges of her teeth digging softly into her lower lip, drawing my attention to the soft dip on the lush surface.

She was only confusing me further. Her words implied that her father's spirit didn't do the usual, stereotypical tragic stuff bards usually detail in their tales; a father's spirit rising from the grave accusing someone of murder, or berating his child for being a failure. Odious amounts of guilt, copious amounts of blame. I never heard a story involving the dead visiting their loved ones back in the land of the living that didn't have something tragic stuck to it. Instead, it sounded like she was implying that whatever her father said...wasn't negative.

So where was her distress coming from?

"So...what, then?" I couldn't help but ask.

She met my eyes, and the expression I found on her face was terribly familiar. I felt my heart sinking, just a bit. It was the face she wore whenever she was about to do or say something I probably wouldn't like. There were several instances of that, already, in the course of our journey, but they had always been command decisions and despite my chagrin over the dubious morality of some of them, I could at the very least understand that she did what was necessary to fulfill our objectives. It was up to us both, after all, we were the only ones left, and I wasn't making it easy on her getting on her back on each of them.

But this was different. This was personal. Part of me dreaded it, for some reason.

She knew it, too. I could see it on her face. A woman this in-tune with the moods and lives of her companions, and with my constant inability to even so much as lie with a straight face, she read me easily. But it didn't stop her from looking me right in the eye, a proclivity I admired her for, one of the little things about her that made my admiration for her grow at each step of the way.

I was afraid that what she would say next would ruin it.

"If I told you, you'll probably question my ability to lead," she told me softly.

I met her gaze steadily. "Unless you did something monumentally stupid like release a hundred Maleficarum through the throes of a girlhood prank, I doubt it," I said determinedly and despite my words, I was serious. "So do your worst."

The smile she gave me then was worth all the frustration in getting to this point. I couldn't help but smile back.

She shifted, and I gave her room, so she could move around a bit and cross her legs, to turn her body and face me a little more fully. And then, she took a breath, and told me her story.


	4. Chapter 4: Past Regrets

_Author's Note: An epilogue will come later. Thanks a lot for reading, everyone!_

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**FOR A CHANGE**

**Chapter 4: Past Regrets**

"It remains the greatest failure I've had to endure," Elissa confessed. Despite the pain evident in her expression, she met my gaze without fear of what I would think or say. She had to be that way, I suppose. When it came to battles, a commander has to make decisions for the good of the whole regardless of what an individual member feels about it. I asked, and she decided to give me answers, and whether I liked them or no, she was going to give them to me and let me sort out the rest.

It can be frustrating, but I doubt we'd have gone this far without her ability to do so.

"Not to say I haven't had quite a bit of it in our journey, mind," she continued, flashing me a small smile. "But..."

She was stalling. I knew it. She knew I knew it because she glanced at me and sighed.

"I abandoned my parents," she told me. "It's true that they were murdered, but I made things easier on that end by leaving when they asked me to."

What? The surprise was so shocking, I was stunned. All through the journey, never without fail did she come back for us if we had to split up. She never forgot us, never wanted to leave a particular area without us. What she was telling me now seemed so out of character I could scarcely believe it. I opened my mouth to speak, but changed my mind and shut it. More listening, less talking.

She moved on when she realized I wasn't going to say anything. "My father was already badly wounded," she told him. "He was dying, before my eyes, but he lived, still. Breathed, still. My mother and I came across him when we tried to go through the secret passage way at our larder, in the family keep. That was when Duncan found us."

I stared at her. "Duncan was there?" I asked incredulously. "When it was all happening, he was actually...?"

"He was visiting," she replied. "He wanted to recruit someone in Highever for the Grey Wardens. It was going to be one of our household knights, but he told my father later that I had always been his first choice. But he just didn't know...whether my father would accept it. He would've refused to let me go, my father. He only had two children and Fergus, my brother, found himself in the front lines of battle more times than he was comfortable with, to be able to make that decision, knowing what sort of danger the Order faced regularly."

"Anyway..." I saw her fingers clench and unclench, over the fabric. Her unease in speaking of this marked everything about her, just now. "My father didn't believe he could make it, but he had always been a tenacious man. My mother, when he made his decision, elected to stay with him, defend him until Howe's men took the breath from her body in doing so. But they had been alive then, Alistair. Still breathing, and Duncan had been there. With the two of us, we could've..."

She raked her fingers through her hair, frustration in every tug. "I just left them. I knew where my path lay, by that point. I knew it would serve no one by staying with them in an impossible situation while hurling myself into another one. I told them I loved them, and without looking back, I just left, with Duncan. My father wouldn't go, and my mother wanted to die with him." Her features scrunched up at the last, I saw it clearly because even at this point of the story, she wasn't looking away from me. "She loved him so much. I didn't have it in me to drag her away from him when it was what she wanted. When forcing her to leave him would be akin to cutting her heart out from her body."

Her lashes lowered, at that. "Love does that, I suppose," she said, her voice growing quiet. "With that much of it, your heart isn't your own anymore, but someone else's. And when that someone dies, with your heart in his or her hands, there's nothing but emptiness, a void that'll always be there. A body dies without its heart, after all. You go on, and keep breathing, but it's not really living if you go on without it. My mother would've..."

She didn't continue that. A smile followed, but one etched with so much sadness it filled me with many things. The desire to comfort her, to do or say something, anything, to break her out of it.

To kiss her, cover that mouth with my own so she didn't have to feel it and I didn't have to see it.

But I did nothing, neither did I say anything. I didn't know her very well, obviously. We've been through so much together and it was only now that I was discovering who she was. I wasn't about to ruin it by doing or saying something stupid. I do that, you know. I'm pretty good at it.

"My father's shade..." Steel returned to her voice, determinedly going back to the source of my current inquiries. "Told me he was proud of me. So very proud of me. By all rights, it should've made me feel better, about everything, but it didn't. I felt worse about what I did, that I scarcely tried to do anything to save them. While I ran with Duncan, and made my way to Ostagar with him, I sat in my tent every night, and tried to justify the lack of trying with everything I could think of. That I was going to be a Grey Warden. That there was a bigger task ahead. That I could..." Her laugh at this part was humorless. "That I could help save the world! And I wouldn't be able to do it if I had died."

She shook her head, at that. "Nothing could justify it. What was I thinking, Alistair? The gall...the conceit of it. Just...running off with someone I barely knew because I thought I had a grander destiny than...than... I don't know. Whatever nobleborn females did these days. I knew it deep down, every step of the way that led me towards Ostagar, I felt ill. I wretched, once or twice, once the self-righteousness faded, and the guilt caught up with me. And then later on, to hear my father's ghost tell me that he was proud of me? For what, leaving them?"

She moved suddenly, so engrossed was I with the tale that I almost jumped when a curled fist slammed into the wall next to her. I didn't even think, my body moved in its own accord. I reached out and grabbed her hand before she could do any more damage to it. She would need those knuckles.

"Don't do that," I told her quietly. I dragged her arm away from her, cradling the injury in my own to keep her from repeating the gesture, just in case. "Don't."

She finally looked away from me then, but at the very least, she didn't yank her arm away. "They loved me," she said. "Even beyond the grave, they love me still. Wholly. Unconditionally despite all my faults, despite failing them so grievously. So much so that my father's spirit returned from the Fade to tell me that despite leaving them so callously. I didn't deserve that. I didn't deserve such kindness, especially with the reasons I was giving myself to make me feel better about it."

The silence after, when it fell, weight down heavily in between. I took my eyes away from her face, at last, to look down at the hand I held, and the bruising already evident. Her skin was so pale, so fair that it was hard not to see the welts as they formed, even in the dark. My own, sword-worn fingers did their best to soothe them, my thumb and all its calluses rubbing absent patterns over them. I wasn't like this, normally. I tended to give her space, and despite everything, I did my best not to touch her because I didn't want her to think I was being forward. But this, somehow, was easier than looking at her for the time being.

I could see why she would think this would cause me to question her ability to lead. I wasn't the sort to leave anyone behind. She had to know it, with all the times I talked to her about my own loss, wishing I had been there myself, my desire to go back in time and shield Duncan's body with my own. The two of us would be cut down, no matter what, should that have happened, but it didn't stop me from hoping it did anyway. I never feared death, what I largely feared was my own conscience.

I think it was that very reason why she was leading us instead of me. Of all my harping, my disapproving whenever she did something questionable, I knew somewhere deep down that some of the choices I would've made in comparison should I have been in her position would probably make things worse for us. Our job was hard enough as it was. Maybe that was the real reason why I let her take the reins, instead of me, despite being the most senior Warden out of the two of us. I was incapable of making those shady decisions... who should live. Who should die. What was a lost cause, what should be abandoned. What should be saved and kept.

"Love...isn't about who's deserving, Elissa."

I looked up to find her eyes with my own. Never had I felt and sounded so serious in my entire life. It was completely out of character for me. I should pull a prank on Morrigan tomorrow to make up for it, before I get used to it.

When her eyes drew back to me, I continued. "It isn't. It's one of the very few things in this world that just is. I know...that it must be difficult. I'm afraid I could never adequately understand how it feels to go through something like that because it's never happened to me, no matter how much I wish for Duncan's own shade to appear before me so I could close the door on a few things I'm struggling with in turn. I'd like to think that your father's ghost chose to come back to you because you needed to see him, to hear those words despite of what they made you feel afterwards. Would you have had it any other way? Would you have contented yourself to go on and fight against the Blight without knowing that the people you left behind still loved you despite what you did and, if I may be so bold to say, what you had to do? So much so that your father's ghost even came back from the dead just to see you one last time?"

I don't know which part of all of that startled her so, but her lips parted while she stared at me mutedly. "I..." she began, breathed it so softly I barely heard her. "I didn't even think of it that way."

"His words might not've been easy to hear," I said. "It might've been easier to have been berated for your past decisions. But I think you needed to know all of that. To hear all of that. You said earlier that whatever advantage we can scrounge up may mean everything in the end...maybe this could count for that, too. To realize that keeping yourself alive had been necessary. For all of us."

It might have been too brazen of me, to say such things. Like I mentioned before, we haven't known each other for very long. This was the sort of conversation that should occur after several years of acquaintanceship, to give room for a friendship to grow. But how much longer did we have, really? We could wake up tomorrow to darkness having overtaken half of Ferelden. As Grey Wardens, to boot, Time was all the more precious, all the more painfully short. Either way, we would never see old age, so really, should we pull back just for the sake of propriety?

She was staring at me still, to the point that her gaze was locked into my face. I fidgeted. "What?"

"I'm waiting for it."

"Waiting for what?"

"The inevitable one-liner that'll break the tension."

I couldn't help it. My own laughter was sudden, wrung out of me by such an unexpected quip, one which revealed to me how well she knew me and what to expect from me in such a short time. "Becoming that predictable, am I?" I asked with a smirk. "Might have to switch things up the next time."

"I don't know if you noticed, but you already have," she pointed out, and it was true enough that I didn't have it in me to object. I meant what I said earlier, that I didn't want to screw this up.

"Well, we already established I'm not so good at this 'noticing' thing."

She laughed, and the sound of it dispelled the heavy, intangible blanket of whatever this was back into the winds. "True enough," she replied with a grin.

She extricated her hand from mine, I had forgotten I was still holding onto it. I released it quickly, and settled for resting it on top of my bent knee. When she stood, I stood myself... despite what people know about me, I was raised a gentleman, and a man always stood up when a lady was about to leave the room.

Or she looked like she was leaving, anyway. She adjusted the blanket on her shoulders, wrapped it around herself in a way to keep her modest. I couldn't see what she was wearing underneath, though I could plainly see trousers, donned out of readiness in case she had to be roused in the middle of the night.

"I thought we might seek out the elves, next," she said, suddenly, turning to look at me.

What? Oh, the treaties. "Sounds like a good idea," I replied. "We already have the Circle's support, and Arl Eamonn's. The Frostback Mountains are rather harsh this time of year, which will make the climb perilous. It's an easier way to go about it, I think. By the time we're done with the Dalish, the weather up there will be a little more permitting."

"Exactly," she affirmed, her smile a sight more cheerful than it had been before. "Besides, I hear the Bresilian Forest is lovely this time of year."

"And dangerous."

"Well, it's dangerous year-round so I think it doesn't really matter when in the year we get there."

I grinned at the whipcrack riposte. "Indeed. Which means you should go to bed." I could feel exasperation seep into my expression. "And so does everyone else. I swear, I ran into everyone and their mothers downstairs before I got here."

"Somehow it doesn't surprise me that everyone's still awake," Elissa mused, before finally turning around. "Well, just this once, I'll take your advice. Goodnight, Alistair."

"Goodnight, Elissa."

I watched her move towards the door, the long cascade of her scarlet hair tousling over the high winds. She stopped, however, and I couldn't help but feel my eyebrows lift when she turned back to me.

"Alistair?"

"Yeeeeeees?" I couldn't help it, drawing it out.

"Thank you. You were right." Her smile was gentle. "I needed that."

I felt a cramp twist somewhere in my chest, seeing it, though unlike the others from earlier, this was a good sort of ache. "Don't spread it around," I tossed back agreeably, leaning my shoulder against the nearby wall and crossing my arms. "I have a reputation, you know."

"Everyone knows," she replied, rolling her eyes skyward, though she was grinning as she did it. And with that, she left me, vanishing downstairs and closing the door behind her.


	5. Epilogue

**FOR A CHANGE**

**Epilogue**

Breakfast was wonderful.

It involved all of us gathered around a long table close to the kitchens in Redcliffe Castle, familiar, pleasant smells wafting from the doorway and everyone in relatively good spirits. Sleeping on a real bed, as I had surmised before, even if just for the night, did wonders for everyone else's mood and constitution. Leliana entertained us all with an Orlesian fable, and we were just about at the good part when Zevran asked her a purportedly serious question regarding feminine undergarments from where she was from. The exchange soon after was so hilarious, I could barely hold down any food. Even Morrigan looked amused.

Elissa joined us a bit after that, having woken up well-rested and bright-eyed. She mentioned something about having to look for some parchment and ink to draft a few correspondences and sending them while we were amidst proper civilization. I watched her while she did her rounds. In her usual way, she approached her group as a group, and then individually, talking to them, seeing how they were. Even Sten grudgingly accepted her company despite sitting just a bit away from us down one of the benches, especially after she offered him a bag of cookies. The last gesture, in particular, caused me to smile.

Wynne took a seat next to me during it all, and placed a cookie on my plate. I glanced at it, and looked up at her, smirking. "What's this for?" I inquired, before picking it up and wolfing it down in two bites.

"For whatever you did," she replied, nodding towards Elissa's direction. While our esteemed leader might be right, that one could tell when she disapproved of something even when his or her back is turned, the same thing could be said of her approval, too.

We broke soon after that. Preparations needed to be made, and supplies needed to be gathered - what we could carry, amassing them before we set off for the Bresilian Forest. I had just started putting my belongings together when I realized I needed a new razor. The shave I gave myself this morning still left a considerable amount of stubble, and the blade was getting too worn for the task anyway.

As I ventured outside onto the courtyard, I found Percival pawing on the dirt. I curiously looked at the war dog, my brow quirking upwards as I watched him move around, snuffling. If he didn't look so...well, scary, he'd be just like the pets I grew up with when I was a boy.

I wondered if he knew how to fetch.

Oh, well. Now's as good of a time as any to find out! I grabbed a dry piece of wood off the ground, and moved to approach Percival. He sensed me instantly, the way dogs geared for battles usually did.

"Hey, Percy! Haven't consumed the flesh of the fallen today, have you?" I began conversationally, waving the stick.

He tilted his head at me curiously.

"Fetch!" I cried, hurling the thing away from me and letting it sail over the air. I heard him move, a happy bark escaping as the Mabari crouched low and charged...

....towards me.

"Percy! What?! No! Not me! I didn't mean me!"

The rest of my cries were drowned out by a hundred or so pounds crashing into me, bearing me onto the ground and dirt. Paws, a wet nose, and a slimy tongue were everywhere. I flailed clumsily, and whatever epithets I unleashed were lost amidst happy barking and the roar of laughter from nearby Redcliffe soldiers standing guard at the main gate. I should've seen this coming, really. The big lug had it in for me since I met him!

Oh, ew. Ugh. I'm going to have to take another bath before we leave.

I heard footsteps, and felt that nagging, internal alarm that told me that Darkspawn was approaching... which was impossible, considering my current surroundings. I knew it was my fellow Warden before I even saw the shadow fall over the dog and I. Groaning, I looked upwards at her inverted face, taking in her lifted eyebrows and the hands planted on her hips.

"What are the two of you doing?!" she exclaimed, surprise and a hint of laughter etched in her tone.

"Help," I replied, in the most pitiful tone I could muster.

She managed to get Percival off me, and I stood up to properly greet my present commander, sporting the magnificent scent of dusty dog and animal slobber. I suppose the Maker puts me through all these situations to keep my manly charms from overpowering female folk everywhere. At the look she was giving me, I lifted my hands.

"I was trying to play fetch," I explained.

The puzzled expression on her face cleared up. "Oh, that explains it," Elissa replied, grinning at me. "He doesn't 'fetch' inanimate objects. Just living things. Or...things that used to be alive. He's a Mabari war dog! What did you expect?"

"Clearly, I wasn't thinking," I drawled dryly, after dusting off my knees and peering at her. "You know, most girls I knew growing up tended to want the tiny, yappy dogs with the fluffy tails."

"What? Psh, that's boring," Elissa replied, waving a hand to the side. "Anyway, I've been looking for you."

That ensnared my curiosity rather effectively. Coming from Elissa, it could be about anything. I furrowed my brows slightly. "Me? Why?" I looked at her expectantly, ignoring how Percival was nudging the back of my knee. I'm never saying the f-word around him ever again. Not after today.

She opened her mouth, then shut it again. She gave a glance towards the Redcliffe guards who were still watching our happy little escapades in the courtyard. "Why don't we take a walk?" she suggested, gesturing at me and turning to move out towards the main gates.

What was this about? She wanted to converse in private? I gave a sidelong glance towards the other fellows in my current space, before trotting off after her. It was rare, for her to bring something up that she couldn't bring up in front of others. However, I wasn't going to find out standing around like an idiot. I wiped my face with my sleeve as I quickened my pace. We had to leave soon, after all, and Maker only knows when my next opportunity to speak to her in private would be.

We walked out towards one of the cliffs that surrounded the castle, overlooking the village and Lake Calenhad on the side. From this height, the land stretched for miles, verdant greenery mingled with the tawny expanse of bare patches of earth. I took a deep breath, and marveled at the sight. Days like these, it was hard to imagine that the country was on the brink of civil war, and a looming darkness was just over the horizon.

Elissa took a moment, too, to look over the same view I did. It didn't last long, however, she turned around, apology writ across her expression. "I apologize," she began. "For pulling you away from the courtyard but I didn't want to....I mean, this was rather personal to you."

What she did next took my breath away.

"What..." The cold metal of a very familiar amulet, a possession that I thought I lost a long time ago found its way into my hands. I stared at it for a while, watching the ghosts of my own, past transgressions resurface the moment it brushed my fingers. "This is....my mother's amulet. But it's not broken. Where did you find it?" I inspected it carefully, disbelievingly, wondering if this was some kind of dream or illusion.

"I know," Elissa said, looking strangely awkward. "I remember you mentioning it. I was looking for some quill and parchment, for those correspondences, and the Arl was kind enough to direct me to his study to find some. It..." She grinned sheepishly. "You know me, opening cabinets and chests and taking what I could find. But when I saw it and recognized it, I thought... I mean, you're its rightful owner, anyway. I don't consider it stealing, in this case."

It must have been repaired. I inspected it with both sight and my fingers, trying to look for signs of it being pieced together, but could find none. Whoever the Arl had commissioned to repair it had been a very good craftsman. Still, I held it with awe, my lips parted as I took in the sight of something I lost returned to me after all this time, effectively eradicating one thing in my long list of regrets. "He must have repaired it...and....kept it." Why? It confused me, I had always thought... "I don't understand. Why would he...?"

My companion shifted, I looked up to watch her slide her hands in her pockets and rock back on her heels. There was something so... young about it, so particularly girlish that I found it incredibly endearing. Then again, I just rediscovered my mother's amulet, and whatever this means for the Arl and myself, that everything around me was suddenly brighter, the world more cheerful. "Maybe you mean more to him than you think," she told me. "It happens, you know. I've known...other people back home who have had similar troubles with their parents. So many misunderstandings, so many intentions miscommunicated due to pressure, ambition and whatnot. Who's to say it's not the same in your case?"

She was right, of course. Still, it was so hard to believe. "I'll..." I swallowed, pocketing the thing gently, close to my heart. Part of me was loathe not to hold it in my hand for a second, I was so afraid it would just vanish into the ether. "I'll have to talk to him about this. When he fully recovers. He's so exhausted from all that he's gone through in the last few months that I...."

As much as I wanted to barrel into the castle right now to talk to him, I knew I shouldn't. We didn't have a lot of time, and he probably wanted to spend some time with his wife and son.

"...I just wish I had this a long time ago," I finished, my voice quieting as I looked at her.

"Well," Elissa said, gesturing loosely to where I pocketed it. "You have it now. Remember what I said the night before, that whatever we could get might mean everything in the end? Might count towards that too, don't you think? Besides..."

It was strange to see her look so shy, her gaze diverting away from me and towards the lake instead.

"...I owed you," she murmured. "For last night. I could be such an idiot, sometimes, seeing a good thing as a bad thing the way I did. I didn't want to think that I was starting to grow blind towards what remains in this world that's good and pure, still. It's hard not to, being in the front lines and taking point all the time. But it's something... it's a part of me that I don't wish to lose."

My face softened, at that. I lifted my hand, fingers extending to touch the side of her temple. I meant it to be brief, to coax her to look at me before I said anything else, but when my fingertips caught the silken, crimson strands by it, I couldn't help myself, sliding them around her ear and tucking there. I didn't even think, the gesture somehow felt as natural to me as breathing.

It worked, at least. Her eyes met mine and... I couldn't describe it adequately, really. It felt like a tiny bolt of lightning coursed through me just then, seeing her expression.

"You....remembered me mentioning it?" I asked, grinning, putting forth the lightest, most casual tone I was capable of. "Wow. Huh. I'm just used to people not listening when I go on and on about things."

She smiled ruefully, at that. "I don't know," she replied, her voice softening. "I think if anyone gave you the chance and listened to you more often, he or she would discover you've got a lot of very good things to say."

Anyone could tell you that I could be dumb. Ridiculously dense, even. But rest assured, I'm not that dumb. I knew what she was talking about, what she was referencing despite not actually saying it. "You think so?" I shifted closer, the tip of my index finger brushing against the high arch of her ear.

Her lashes lowered, when the shadow of my head cast over her own. "I know so," she murmured.

I wanted to move closer, maybe perhaps even dip my head a little. Maybe if I did it slowly enough, she wouldn't realize my eyes were locked on her...

"There you are!"

Elissa shifted, peering around me towards the gate. I groaned inwardly, my hand dropping and turning sideways to look at the very unwelcome intruder. "Morrigan," I grunted. Maker, what timing. The one moment in where I was doing so well and someone ruins it all. Andraste only knows when in the bloody Dark I'm going to be able to have this kind of opening again. Blast it!

"The rest of us are ready to leave," the Witch replied, planting her hands on her hips. "If the two of you are done with....whatever the two of you were discussing, we should go before the sun gets too high and intolerable." She always did it in such a way that made her look imperious, with her chest jutting out the way it is and her eyes narrowed as if we were conspiring to kill her. Granted, there had been several moments over the course of our journey when the urge had been strong, but I was actually in a good mood today.

Well, sort of. She did just interrupt me when I was doing well, for a change.

"We're on our way," Elissa assured, giving me a glance sideways and a lighthearted shrug. Her lips lifted upwards in a smile, stepping around me and wandering over towards the mage.

I sighed, rolling my eyes heavenward before moving along. Irritation fled as swiftly as it came, however, quickening my pace to catch up with the rest of them.

There'll be other days, I suppose. After all, she wasn't going anywhere.

And neither was I.

**FINIS**

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_Final Notes:_

_I thought I'd pull together a few things about the story now that I've finished it here._

_1) The Taint - I know it wasn't exactly canon, but I thought it was logical. After all, when Grey Wardens swallow the mixture with Darkspawn blood as a base, they are able to sense them approach. Since other Wardens swallow the Taint themselves, it seemed right to me that they'll be able to sense each other as well._

_2) The Ruined Temple - I know in the game that the party stays together, so it's easy to assume that when the ghost of the past manifests to speak with your character, that everyone would see it too. Clearly in this story, my visualization of the event is a little different. In an actual story, taking out the gameplay for just a moment, I didn't think a chamber as vast as that wouldn't have the group splitting up a little to search the corners once the threats have been cleared. It was easy for me to visualize them doing so while the PC got a personal visitation from her ghost. After all, the ghost only spoke to the PC, and not the rest of the party, and the NPCs didn't give any indication that they heard it. so in this story, only Elissa got to see the ghost._

_3) In-game conversation bits were included here, but I tried to stay away from them. I wanted this to mostly constitute my own material, but at the same time, it didn't seem right for me to eschew including them entirely._

_So there you have it. Again, thanks to everyone who subscribed to this story, and pegged me as a Favorite Author. I truly appreciate it. Should I get inspired again, as I am still playing the game, so chances are I probably will, there'll be a sequel or two of sorts. Though as always I'll keep them under five chapters or less. Otherwise the stories will never end, and no one wants that... right?_

_Till next time!_


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